Outer Concept - Day One Brotha ft. Danny G D-Box & The Majedi (prod. by Alex Acebal) [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Danny G]

This shit's miraculous
I used to beat on pots and pans wanting to sell out arenas and popular stands
Making big money moves and copping them grands
Envision fans waving their feet and stomping their hands
And I was chopping them samps at the age of thirteen
A bird better yet a stork dropped me off with a beat machine
As a little seed got the influence planted in me
So I sprouted to some roots with some culture and weeds
And the ones you inhaled and hell couldn't even reach
I was so above the ground that you couldn't see me, the D
I held my D no confidentiality
Just some confidence and pocket cents then dropped reality
I began my treasure hunt for this thing that I called my passion
Straight killa no fashion
Learning the ropes but killing my hopes that I was asking fo'
Fuckin' with the forces that I know I can't control
And I know that I can't be selfish we just tryna get by
My homie is literally living the struggle tryna survive
And I get it it's part of the cycle we supposed to abide by
But fuck it fuck the system bro continue to ride high
One day brotha, yeah, one day we gonna make it
Today is the day that we break away from the patience
Happy faces celebration jump as high as you can
Just remember the first day when it all began
If you've never had a problem go and yell fuck my life!
Never made a mistake, go ahead and yell fuck my life!
This gangsta shit wasn't easy but that's what made this shit fun
Never tell yourself it's over and done

[Verse 2: The Majedi]

Bitch it's miraculous when the fuck you gonna learn
We spitting vulgar rhymes that make your stomach churn
The doom looms while I'm tripping on shrooms
Sweeping up the competition with an army of brooms
I'm some kind of plague I keep spitting out locusts
I rocks you in the brain leave ya eyes out of focus
Hocus pocus you are now my bitch
Something like a rash but you can't cure the itch
Spitting on the mic because it's what I do best
Spitting bullets better bring a bulletproof vest
Mike Tampon's whack won't cut him no slack
You can be fat boy you barely a snack
Going hard like the Spartans that were at Thermopylae
Wise beyond my years I'm like a younger Socrates
When I smoke a lotta trees my eyes look like apostrophes
And I don't spit bars I just share philosophies
Somebody grab a fiddle cause I'm bout to spit a riddle
The sky is crashing down and I feel like chicken little
Bang the hammer like Thor getting head from a whore
I can never be content because I always want more
I've smoked so much blunts with Goodman and Fetti
We are the champions without vocals like Freddie
Breaking like the Levi getting high in Bryon's Chevy
Don't collapse under pressure cuz no title is to heavy